


Relax

by KY Lowell (TachyonStar)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-30 05:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TachyonStar/pseuds/KY%20Lowell
Summary: It’s been a hard day at work, and Nero just wants to help you relax. (Nero x f!reader)





	Relax

**Author's Note:**

> Gift fic for the lovely sakkajagga over at tumblr - she needed some cheering up, I felt the need to provide, the rest is history~
> 
> (Now I just need to write something involving Dante and a reader insert and I'll officially have written for them all.)
> 
> Still definitely open for requests, by the by: https://but-two-days-old.tumblr.com/post/186461623433/

"Hey, welcome home," Nero calls when he hears the front door open, and he's smiling when you enter the living room, rising from the couch to wrap you in a warmly soothing hug. "You look pretty tired. Rough day, huh?"  
  
You sigh heavily, let yourself slump briefly against his chest and bury your face into his shoulder, just breathing in the scent of him with a slow nod. "Exhausting," you admit, your next sigh a little more contented when one of his hands shifts to rub soothingly at the small of your back, some of the tension that's plagued you through the day beginning to finally ease. "My boss is ridiculous, I'm pretty sure a few of my coworkers have it in for me, and if I didn't need this job so much, I'd be out the door in a _heartbeat_. At this point--" you wrinkle your nose a little, petulantly, and finally look up at him; he's looking at you with a worried gentleness, like the most important thing he could possibly be doing right now is listening to you, and you almost forget where you've left off because you're practically melting from how appreciated that makes you feel. "I'd actually rather have a job like _yours_. At least that's actually exciting, not just...a predictable pain."  
  
"There's something to be said for predictability," Nero shrugs, smiling when you wrinkle your nose again to show your opinion of that and running a hand through your hair. "I'd much rather have you where you're not at risk of getting yourself killed, anyway. Life would be pretty boring without you, demons or no demons."  
  
"I don't know--" you roll your eyes, looking purposely put out just to make him laugh, because the sound of it always makes you smile, and it doesn't fail this time either. "If Francis in accounting doesn't quit ticking off the HR lady, there's _definitely_ going to be bloodshed, and my department's literally right between both of theirs. Collateral damage."  
  
Nero frowns, purposely overdramatic, but it turns back into a smile when you let out a laugh of your own, giving one last soothing rub to your back before he reluctantly turns you loose enough to take a step back. "Can't have that," he says, settling an arm round your waist and taking a step towards the hall, guiding you with him and looking pleased when you agreeably follow. "Unfortunately, I don't think anyone besides you would appreciate me bashing their heads together till they realise they're being stupid, so how about I just help you forget about it for a little while instead? I got something while I was out that I think you'll like."  
  
"No, I beg to differ. _Everyone_ would appreciate it," you say, laughing again at the mental image. "But, I'm listening."  
  
He grins, stops in front of the bathroom door and squeezes your waist gently before letting go. "You go ahead and have your shower, alright? I'll meet you in the bedroom."

* * *

You're not sure what you're expecting when you return to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, after showering off the day's stresses, but what you find definitely defies any expectations you might have had. Somehow Nero's managed to take your boring, utilitarian bedroom, with its dull walls in perpetual need of painting, its worn and rough carpet, and its general air of mere _functionality_, and turn it all into something strangely inviting via the addition of strategically placed candles, fresh clean sheets, and a still-steaming cup of your very favorite tea on the bedside table - you can hardly believe this is the same room you left this morning, honestly, even when you've taken a few steps inside and looked slowly around, and you don't even realise he's slipped up behind you until his hands settle on your waist, startling you into an embarrassed squeak as you quickly turn your head to look at him. "Nero, this--" you realise as you say it, though, that you're not quite sure how to continue, and so you just give him a sheepish smile for a moment before going on. "You really did this just for me?"  
  
"Of course," he shrugs as if it's nothing special, just an everyday occurrence, smiling when you blush and duck your head because his sweet, affectionate expression is doing things to your hormones that you're pretty sure ought to be, if not illegal, at least somewhat frowned upon. "But this isn't the entire surprise. Take off the towel--" he grins outright when your blush deepens, "and go lay down on the bed. On your stomach. I promise you'll like what's next."  
  
You're pretty sure you'll like _anything_ that involves you and him being in the same room with at least one of you naked, but you don't say that; you just nod, take a slightly shy breath and move to obey, trying not to blush any harder at the fact you can _feel_ him looking you over once you've shed the towel. "This isn't just an excuse to ogle me, is it?"  
  
He gasps dramatically, and you don't even have to look to know he's put the back of his hand to his forehead, theatrically pretending to swoon. "Your accusations _wound_ me, ____." --but then he's laughing, soft and gentle, when you _do_ look at him, the sound of your name on his lips always enough to draw your attention no matter what you're doing. "I don't need excuses. If I want to ogle you, I'll just _tell_ you."  
  
"You would." You eye him with feigned suspicion for a moment before settling back down, a nervous flutter in the pit of your stomach. "Am I going to be the only one naked here, or are you going to undress?"  
  
"Just wait," he says soothingly, pats a hand against your back as he leans over to fetch something from next to the teacup, not letting you see what it is. "This might be a little cold, so brace yourself."  
  
"What will--" you begin, but then something slick and somewhat chilly is pouring onto your skin and you squeak, unable to help but squirm a little. "N-Nero, what are you..."  
  
His hands are on your back to spread the thin oil before you've even gotten the entire sentence out, soothing away the chill, and he even sounds like he's smiling. "You trying to tell me you don't want a massage?"  
  
"No, I..." trailing off, you turn your head just a little at the familiar smell of patchouli now reaching your nose, the full impact of the situation beginning to sink in. Nero, the amazingly thoughtful, adoring and kind man that he is, has taken the time to gather so many of your favorite things, so many of the things you like, just to soothe away the stress from what isn't even an _unusual_ workday - and you honestly can't remember the last time you felt so noticed or appreciated, your eyes actually tearing up a little. When is the last time someone treated you so _well_, you wonder, and then you push the thought away, because his hands are gently working the knots of tension out of your muscles and it's so hard to think like that. "You're so good to me," you say instead, quiet, almost sleepy, and you can't stop smiling.  
  
"Should I not be?" he teases you lightly, not expecting an answer, just working steadily at each and every last knot he finds until you're little more than a melty heap beneath his fingers, and he can't help an affectionate laugh when he finally pulls away and you make a noise of utmost disappointment. "I'm not done, you know. Turn over--" and he can't keep from leaning close to gently kiss you when you obey, his hands settling on your front to presumably continue the massage - though it's hard for you to believe that's the _only_ intent he has when he seems to be making some kind of mental map of your reactions, watching you closely as you shiver when his hands skim across your breasts, as you arch when he slides his fingers feather-light down your stomach, and he _smirks_ when you can't stop a stuttered little gasp as he continues down and kneads at your thighs. "Something wrong? You're squirming," he murmurs, low and sensual, mischief clear in his expression as his voice alone sends another shiver through you. "You want me to stop?"  
  
"_No_," you manage fiercely, hands coming up to grab at his arms when he makes like he's going to pull away, and you'd almost be a little mad at him but for the fact his face says he wouldn't _actually_ dare. "W-was this your plan all along? To get me worked up--" you're forced to pause then, his fingers skimming along your thighs in a way that briefly makes you forget how to speak. "Or is it just a bonus?"  
  
"A little from column A, a little from column B," he admits, having the good grace to at _least_ look a bit sheepish, tracing his fingertips in far enough that he can feel the heat that radiates from you as you instinctively part your legs for him. "You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?"  
  
You nod, grip tighter at his arms, a stuttering gasp escaping you when he stills his hands just mere centimeters from actually touching you where you want it most. "Please," you breathe out, and you can't even manage to be embarrassed at how lost you already sound. "_Don't_ stop."  
  
He smiles, nods once, and finally, _finally_, his fingers brush over your slick folds and the sensation that goes through you is nearly electric.  
  
"_Nero_," you gasp out, lifting your hips just a little, and thankfully, he takes pity on you, parting your folds so he can press gentle fingers into you; you already feel like you're melting just from that and the feeling only gets stronger when he leans down and kisses you deeply, swallowing the helpless moan you let out as his fingers move deep within you, slow and leisurely thrusts that do little to satiate your desire and only inflame it instead. Damn him for _teasing_ you, damn him for making it feel so good - you can't even think, you just _want_, and your attempts to tell him as much are fruitless, only coming out as desperate little cries and whines instead of the words you're trying to shape.  
  
He knows you, though, and he knows your reactions, so he stills his hand, lets his lips part from yours and whispers, low breathy words that send shivers of desire up and down your spine. "Can't take it anymore?"  
  
You shake your head, cling to him a little tighter, panting till you can get the breath back to say anything. "Need you," you manage, strangled and desperate, lifting your hips shakily in what you hope is an inviting manner. "Nero, please..."  
  
"It's alright--" he kisses you again, quick and gentle, and pulls back, working at his belt. "You can have me. As much as you want - as _long_ as you want."  
  
That's possibly the best thing he's ever said to you, and you feel your cheeks flush with anticipation, curling your hands tight into the sheets as he sheds clothing and reaches for the drawer of the bedside table. It's so hard not to just reach out and _touch_ him, to lay here and wait patiently - but at the same time it's worth watching him, the flex of muscle in his arm as he carefully rolls on the condom he's retrieved from the drawer, the way his throat works as he swallows down a faint sound from the halfhearted stroke that goes along with that motion, and by the time he turns to you again you're damn certain you've never wanted anything more than you want him at this moment. "Please," you say again, parting your legs and reaching out to pull him closer, and he acquiesces immediately, his body covering yours.  
  
You feel the tip of him slide against your opening just a little, hot and hard and _ready_, and you whine, arching a little to try and get him _in_ you; he puts his hands on your waist, though, and gently pins you to the bed, meeting your eyes with the corner of his mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Patience, ____," he whispers, rolls his hips just the slightest bit so he rubs teasingly against you once more, a pleased shiver going through him when your hands come up to clutch at his arms and your nails dig in. "Let me take it slow just for now, alright? Don't want this to end before it even really gets started," he trails off into a small nervous laugh, and the sudden realisation that he's being driven just as wild as you makes you feel warm all over, your body obediently relaxing back into the mattress in understanding.  
  
He smiles softly, grateful, kisses you again and finally lets himself slide into your welcoming heat - slowly, so _slowly_, the both of you panting a little by the time he's fully sheathed in you, and you already feel like every little moment of teasing frustration has been entirely worth it.  
  
"I love you, Nero," you breathe, hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, and he groans and kisses you as he begins to move within you.  
  
It doesn't stay slow for long; the both of you, by now, are just too desperate and want too much, and soon Nero's picking up the pace, panting out breathless little noises against your lips that you're answering with needy moans, your legs wrapped tight round his waist so you can push yourself up to meet his firm thrusts. He always feels so _good_ inside you, filling you up to the extent it's nearly too much, and yet somehow it seems so much more intense this time - you aren't going to last, you know, and you can't even manage to be embarrassed, just clenching your hands into his hair and matching his every movement like you're trying to fuck yourself on him, chasing the promise of sweet release that comes closer and closer with each passing moment. "Don't...don't stop," you moan out, softly shaky, and you're pleased to see him shiver all over at your tone, turning your head just a little so you're moaning the next words right against his ear. "_Please_ \- you're gonna - make me..."  
  
He groans sharply, turns his head too and catches your lips in a sharp kiss before you can finish the sentence, a shudder running through his hips that betrays he's far closer to losing it than he wants to admit. "Don't hold back," he manages when his lips part from yours, low and breathless, and his next thrust is fierce enough it seems to send a shockwave of pure delight through the very core of you. "_Come_ for me, ____. Let me see it--"  
  
You can't resist that - you don't _want_ to resist it, and so you don't, welcoming the feeling of blissful warmth as it spreads over you, clenching tight around him and crying out his name in your release.  
  
"That's it," Nero breathes, a tight whisper like it's all he can do to make his voice work, "that's it, I - _god_\--" and then he's breaking off into a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt in you, and you think he's gasping out your name like a mantra but it's hard to tell when he has his face shoved into your neck, letting your possessive hands hold him there as he shudders blissfully through the forceful orgasm your own has driven him into. At moments like this you can understand why he likes seeing you come undone so much; you like seeing him the same way, after all, so unguarded and soft and genuine - it only makes you love him that much more, in ways you just can't express but you're going to try anyway, petting his hair with shaky hands and pressing little kisses over every bit of him you can reach and he's returning the favour, his lips deliciously hot against your shoulders and your neck and, eventually, your own mouth when he works his way back up there to kiss you directly.  
  
You're smiling when your lips part, and so is he, and you just _look_ at one another for a long moment, basking in the afterglow, feeling loved.  
  
"So," he says finally, takes a deep breath, lets it out again as he strokes your cheek with a sated hand and looks like he could drown in the loving gaze you're giving him. "Feel better now?"  
  
You nod, lean your head into his gentle touch, eyelids fluttering a little when his thumb rubs gently across your cheekbone. "Much better," you agree, finally unwinding your legs from round his waist and stretching them slowly out, even the slow burn of exertion feeling so _good_ right now. "How do you always know exactly what I need to relax?"  
  
He shrugs a little, cups your face in both hands, running his thumbs along both cheeks just to watch you nearly melt into the affectionate touch. "Maybe I just love you that much," he says, and he sounds like he means it.  
  
You smile, close your eyes, and put your arms around him. "...I love you too, you sappy idiot."


End file.
